


Take My Hand (You're Coming Over)

by auroreanrave



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Ficlet, Light Angst, M/M, finally requited love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:57:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8752459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: Sam. Jon. The long walk home. The truth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A drunken confessions and true love little fic for my favourite ASOIAF/GoT pairing in all the world. Light angst is indeed light. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Title comes from 'Our Time' by Lily Allen.

It happens, slowly, slowly, slowly, then all at once.

They're walking back home after the night out to end all nights out - at least according to Ygritte, bookending the evening in a pair of images in Sam's head:

(First: Everyone in Jon's for the pre-drinks ahead of the Christmas night out, a week before Christmas Day. Ygritte and Pyp and Grenn press shot glasses overflowing with tequila and vodka and whatever else they could find, and Sam looks right at Jon as they down their shots, and Ygritte yells it with a valkyrie cry.

Second: The seven of them, several hours later, hunkered down in the all-night cafe with the faded turquoise Formica and the flickering lights overhead. Ygritte scoops an actual handful of her lamb kebab into her mouth, garlic sauce smeared around her chin, and says it victorious and glorious, her red hair a halo, her arm around Gilly's sleepy shoulders.)

Jon and Sam, trudging down the quiet street, heading for Sam's, because Jon's is too far away and he has no money for a cab, and Jon has clothes and a key and a place at Sam's, because Sam has been in love with him for years. It's a simple fact, as innocent and simple as saying that the stars shine brighter when Jon smiles at Sam under the glow of the streetlamps.

"Hell of a night," Jon says, his eyes tilted towards the moon. He kicks at the remnants of a disposable Christmas party hat in the gutter as they walk.

"It was. Not quite sure if I'll remember all of it, but the sight of Gilly and Edd doing Gangnam Style to the wrong song is definitely a keeper."

Jon grins, and leans in closer, breath bold and sharp with the scent of vodka, of beer. "Amazing. Actually amazing, Sam."

Sam smiles to himself, and thinks about Christmas. He's not been home for a few years, and this year's no different. His mum and his siblings send him stuff, cards and gifts, even Dickon, but he hasn't been back since his dad found he was less than straight. He's spending it with the Starks, under Jon's insistence, spending a couple of nights on Jon's bedroom floor. It's not ideal - being a foot away from your half-naked best friend of a crush - but Sam's good with that kind of stuff. He's good.

Jon's fingers interlace with Sam's, and Sam freezes for a moment, before he tampers down on the shock and lets it happen. Jon is drunk, and drunk Jon is more affectionate than he normally is.

"No disasters. No awkwardness. S'all good." Sam knows what Jon is referring to. His crash and burn fling with Ygritte, Sam's own relationship with Gilly. The breakups, the bonding, Ygritte and Gilly falling for each other. They're adults now. Mature. They can handle stuff like this.

"Yeah. It was nice. They're great together," Sam says, a little wistfully but only a little, and before he knows it, Jon has tugged him into a bear hug. They sway on the spot in the middle of the pavement.

"Sorry," Jon says, voice thick, after a moment. "I just... you're so good. You know? With all of this, with everything."

"I'm really not," Sam admits.

"I love you," Jon says. "I just - "

And then he tugs Sam close again and kisses him.

The kiss is sloppy and inconsistent, flavoured with cigarette smoke and vodka and Sam curls into it for a moment. Lets himself have it. Even as a drunken fumble, a gin-soaked joke that Jon'll look back on in years and laugh about. Just for now.

Sam pulls back after a long moment, and Jon's mouth and hands follow, the latter insistent on Sam's shirt, his bare forearms.

"Jon, stop it, come on."

"I - I just - fuck, you know. I needed to - "

"Needed to what?"

"Do that," Jon says, gravely, seriously. "I've been wanting to do that years. Turns out I can only do that with a skinful."

"Charming," Sam jokes, and Jon looks mortified for a moment. He blurts out: "No! No, I meant - I've wanted to kiss you for years. Years, Sam."

Sam forces past the blood rushing in his ears, to focus on Jon, crouching down by the nearest garden wall. Jon looks up at him mournfully. "I've fucked us up, haven't I?"

"You've not fucked anything up," Sam promises, kneeling to lift Jon up again. He sweeps Jon's hair back from his face. Even when he's drunk and tired and upset, he looks sort of handsome, even if he'd rather see him clean and smiling and well-rested.

"I haven't?"

"Definitely not," Sam affirms. Jon still looks miserable, and Sam has always been a sucker for Jon, so he tucks Jon's hand into his.

"It's alright. I've wanted to kiss you too. For a... for a long time," Sam ventures, watching as Jon's eyes go wide, first with shock, and then some weird satisfaction. Jon leans in forward for another kiss, and Sam pushes him away, gently, keeping his hand on Jon's chest.

"Not now. You're drunk, I've had a few."

"I'm not - this isn't some dumb mistake, Sam."

"I know. But I'd like the next time we kiss to be with a completely clear head. So I can remember every detail," Sam says. Jon nods, satisfied, smiling, and they reach Sam's front door.

Sam opens it, and turns back to see Jon, waiting on the step. "You coming in?" Sam asks.

"Do you promise? Will you let me kiss you in the morning?" Jon asks.

"If you want to. Yeah. I promise." Sam glows a little when Jon nods eagerly.

Jon beams again, and bounds through the door which Sam closes behind them, before threading their fingers together again, and leading them softly upstairs.


End file.
